


Graveyard Shift

by ObsidianRomance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-15
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-11 23:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taken from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy_girl">klutzy_girl</a>'s prompt over at <a href="http://mpregwinchester.livejournal.com/">mpregwinchester</a>'s prompt me comment meme. </p><p>Prompt: Sam breaks Dean's hand during labor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Graveyard Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Graphic birth, mpreg!Sam  
> Author's Note: So....as I usually do...this is a PWP but I can never have a simple PWP. I always throw in some story line. So the hand breaking actually became secondary. I hope this is okay.

Dean’s never been more thankful for Sam’s theatrics than he was in the last twenty minutes.  He has no idea how his brother pulled it off, being that his brother is huge in lots of ways and most definitely a man.  Still, somehow their luck didn’t go to shit.

Twenty minutes ago they were speeding down a highway because they had to burn a set of bones belonging to a very angry and exceedingly dangerous ghost.  Time was definitely of the essence since said ghost had taken a nasty liking to making life difficult for a pair of hunters who Dean owed a favor to for something is mind was trying to black out.  Dean was pretty sure that if they didn’t get to the cemetery soon, there wouldn’t be anyone left alive to owe a favor to.

So, yeah, time was of the essence.

The problem with time giving them constraints and stupid regulations like speed limits slowing them down is that Sam and Dean developed a precarious habit of breaking more laws than bones and not really playing by any legal rules.

The issue with breaking laws was that sometimes they got caught.

Like they did twenty minutes ago.

And the problem with getting caught was more than the arsenal in their trunk and the fraudulent paperwork they lived their lives by.  It was mostly that Sam was heavily pregnant and that statement made no sense.  That statement should have had them both carded away to the local mental institution where they would find out Sam actually _is_ pregnant and they could do all sorts of sci-fi creepy experiments on him.

No thank you.

Sam actually being pregnant isn’t the issue.  Well, it was, but it isn’t anymore.  They’ve dealt with that issue, found people they trust to clue them in what is inside Sam and why.  It turned out to be pretty obvious.  It’s a baby and it’s there because Dean fucked Sam through a particularly quirky dose of sex pollen that came with side effects.  There have been other people who went though the same thing and they and their babies are fine.  So, armed with a handful of hunters who are willing to help them and virtual birthing classes, they figure they’re going to be dads soon and they’ve had enough time to be more than okay with that.

It’s weird and probably wrong but that is why it feels normal.  Their lives just seem to work that way.

No, the real problem was the fact that Sam’s pregnant and due _yesterday_ and there was no way Dean was going to leave him alone.  For the last four weeks Dean hadn’t let Sam do much of anything physical.  He was mostly along for research skills and company but when anything physical came along, Sam got to keep the motel bed warm.  Well, that was what Sam did up until last week.  After last week Dean got so paranoid about leaving his brother alone that they went everywhere together now.  Dean wasn’t hunting, but there were still things hunting them and Sam got relegated to sitting in a stupid hula-hoop filled with salt – Dean’s idea because _hey, a ghost can’t blow a break in a line of salt with a solid barrier wall_ – while Dean dealt with baddies.

So the real problem was the fact that Sam was in the car when Dean got pulled over for going 2348 miles over the speed limit.  Sam.  Sam who is so obviously pregnant and so obviously male at the same time.

Dean cursed and slammed his hands against the steering wheel while his mind tried to figure a way out of this situation.  The officer walked over and rapped on his window before an answer came to him, but that was when Sam kicked things into gear. 

Aided by the dark, it was difficult to clearly make out Sam’s form on the passenger side of the car.  From the police officers vantage point, he probably saw a person, albeit a huge person, huddled against the door.  Sam played on this and pulled his sweatshirt’s hood up around his head, ducking as much of his face inside as he could while turning to face the window.  Hiking his shirt up, he exposed his pregnant belly.  Dean had to do a double take because it looked so much bigger like that, almost illuminated by the moonlight.

Before Dean even rolled down his window, Sam made a great show of huffing and puffing, making weak groaning noises while trying to stay in a more believable high pitch.  His hands, both huge but masked by the oversized sleeves of his sweatshirt, were making attempts at soothing strokes over his stomach while he kept snorting and panting.  It was impossible to tell what Sam was – male or female – other than pregnant, and that would have to work.

Dean thought there was no way faking labor was going to work but it did, almost instantly.  The officer made a great show of being in charge and giving Dean a stern reprimand but his demeanor changed almost instantly when he noticed the commotion coming from the passenger side of the car.

When the officer asked if Sam was okay, Sam didn’t answer.  He simply shifted and jutted his belly out more while letting out a muffled cry of pain.

Dean filled in the blanks.  He made up a weakly fabricated lie that his sister – _sister? What the fuck?_ – was in labor and that he needed to get her to the hospital.  He was sorry for speeding but his sister said she felt like the baby was coming soon and he had no idea how to deliver a baby.

And the fucking plan worked.  The officer, fueled on by Sam’s rhythmic puffing of air, bought the lie and offered to escort them to the hospital.  He insisted.  It was a lucky thing that the hospital happened to be on the way to the cemetery and Dean couldn’t see what other choice they had but to follow him.  So Sam kept up his panting and making a visual display of being in discomfort in case the cop glanced in his rearview mirror and caught on to their plan.  Dean hadn’t thought it odd that Sam groaned and huffed for the whole ten minute journey, he was just glad they had gotten out of dealing with the police officer.  Only now that same police officer’s car was a few feet in front of them.

That was a whole new problem but it didn’t turn out to be much of one when the officer sped past them as soon as Dean turned into the hospital.

In short, Dean is extremely proud of Sam and his ability to turn up the drama.  He is the reason they got out of this little issue.  They wait in the parking lot a moment before hightailing it out of there and making it to the cemetery. Sam's still puffing strong enough to blow his hair out of his eyes and Dean raises and eyebrow at him.

Things go in fast motion because Dean is running out of time.  The car is barely stopped when he almost falls out of it, gets Sam and his ridiculous hula-hoop of protection to a safe spot near the grave, and rummages around in the trunk to find the shovel.  He has to dig up the grave by himself, which is exhausting because by the time he is done he is huffing and puffing as loud as Sam is.  His brain snaps back to the fact that Sam hasn’t exactly stopped breathing funny, even after they lost the cop.

“Hey, Sammy?  What’re you doing over there?  Trying out for the big bad wolf?”  He throws the shovel aside and starts dousing the bones in gasoline while giving Sam a look.

Sam sits on his butt, supporting his weight with both hands face down on the ground behind him.  He looks miserable and snorts in frustration at Dean but holds in whatever retort he wants to give.  He lets out a yelp but Dean’s already lost to hastily drowning the bones that he doesn’t register it.

Eventually, Dean’s work is done.  All he needs to do is light the sorry sack of bones up.  Sam is breathing heavily again and it’s fucking weird.  “Sam, come one.  Enough with the huffing and puffing.  I don’t think the cop is that dedicated to following us.”

“Dean…”  Sam groans, voice sounding more concerned than pained.

“One second Sam…”  Flicking his lighter, Dean has trouble getting it to flare up.

“Dean!”

“Sammy, wait!” Another flick, no luck.

“DEAN!”

This time Dean gets the lighter going and drops the whole damn thing in the grave.  He looks at Sam and instead of feeling triumph that he just accomplished the task he’d set out to do, he is instantly startled by the very real expression of pain across Sam’s face and the glimmer of sweat the flames are now accentuating on his forehead.  Sam’s breathing through clenched teeth and rubbing his middle with one hand.  “Sam?”

“I don’t think…I don’t think I’m faking the breathing thing anymore.”  Sam groans and splays his legs on the ground.  “Fucking hurts.”

“Shit, Sam!”  Dean rushes towards his brother and gets his hands on his middle.  Sam’s belly is tight and _different_.  It doesn’t look the way it did the last time he had his hands on it.  When Sam’s breathing gets harsh again, Dean realizes Sam probably hasn’t been faking for a long time.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I dunno.  I didn’t think it was anything.  Then I didn’t want to get in the way…and then I just couldn’t remember that you didn’t know I was faking.  It just hurt and I….mother fucker!”  Sam curls in on himself and gasps, he starts making shallow pants combined with desperate whines of pain that seem too small to be coming out of him.

“Okay…come on, let’s get you up.  We got this Sam, right?  We’re ready.”  Dean covers Sam’s hands on his belly and tries to sound reassuring.  He knows they are ready.  They have a plan.  Dean’s watched a million birth videos, more than Sam realizes, and he’s going to do this.  It’s going to be fine.  There is nothing to be worried about.  It’s not like helping your own _brother_ deliver your child is so strange.

Right?

Dean realizes he is fucking screwed when Sam’s legs buckle after trying to stand up and they fall back to the ground.  The fall isn’t bad, Dean gets his arms wrapped around Sam so that it is more like a slow lowering but that alerts him to two problems.  One, they are back on the ground.  Two, Sam’s jeans are soaked.  “Sam did your – ?

“Yeah…”  Sam groans and buries his head in Dean’s neck.  “Water broke…a little while ago.  Somewhere between digging the grave and gassing the bones.”  Sam’s eyes shot wide in pain, “oh shit, another…”  Sam groans through the contraction.  “This is too fast.”

Dean doesn’t know how accurate that statement is.  None of this should be happening so technically it is _too everything_.  Thereis no exact rule book to what is happening and their first mistake may have been thinking Sam’s labor would have followed the normal rules of birth.  In hindsight, that thought was probably a stupid one.

“It’s okay Sam, I just gotta,”  Dean gets Sam situated on the ground again, this time with his back resting against a tombstone, “see what is going on.  Okay?  Can you lift your hips a little bit?”  Dean licks his lips and waits for Sam to aid him so he can pull the damp jeans from his brother’s legs.  This is the part he’s not too sure about.  He doesn’t know how to figure out this part.  He’s seen videos and knows doctors and nurses stick their fingers inside _there_ to figure out what is going on.  Turns out, Dean doesn’t need his fingers.  His eyes are doing just fine.

Sam’s birth canal is under strain from something trying to push free.  It’s stretched oddly, which is saying a lot since it’s presence itself is odd, and Dean doesn’t really have to dip his fingers in at all to feel something slippery and solid.

“Sam, um….don’t freak out.”  Dean swallows and he realizes his hands are shaking where they are trying to keep Sam’s legs spread wide.

Letting out a guttural gasp of pain, Sam plants his feet solidly on the ground and noisily makes his way through the contraction.  He looks up at Dean, eyes wild with pain and the urge to do _something_.  “I am NOT having this baby in a cemetery.”

“I think you might be.”

“No I’m not.  I’m not Dean!  Do you hear me?”  Sam’s voice is loud enough to carry and Dean worries it will wake the dead, which isn’t really too farfetched.

“Sam –”

“No!”  Sam pauses to start breathing funny as pain radiates down his body.  “I’m not having our baby in a cemetery.  Next to a burning grave.  No.  Not happening.”  He groans and his body starts to bear down on its own.

Dean’s eyes widen as he watches Sam’s birth canal stretch wider with their baby’s head as Sam pushes before it recedes.  “It’s happening Sam.  Okay?  You’re going to have this baby and it doesn’t matter that it is in a cemetery.  It’s okay.”  Dean nods and crawls between Sam’s legs.

Sam locks eyes with Dean while looking a little too much like a frightened animal.  The anger he had just been yelling through melts away to fear and suddenly he is crying, not weak frustrated cries, but full blown ugly crying and it shocks Dean to the core to see such a radical change in his brother.  “I don’t want to have this baby here.  I don’t….I…”  Sam can’t finish because he is crying and trying to breathe at the same time.  He throws his head back and practically yowls.  “I wasn’t supposed to have her here.  I wasn’t even _supposed_ to have a baby! Ever!”  A contraction builds up and the anger is back.  “Oh god, fuck you, Dean.”

Dean thinks maybe he deserves that.  A lot of this is his fault, namely the fact that they are in a cemetery rather than the motel room they should have been holding up in.  He knows it was his stupid obsession with living by a code and hunting down everything that comes across his radar that landed them in this position.  But there isn’t anything he can do about it now.

Sam screams and it draws his attention back to the task at hand.  It is hard to see what is going on between Sam’s legs so Dean shifts to the left.  On some level he finds it fitting that the fire he started to annihilate a ghost is actually what is helping him see his child come into the world.  Circle of life and all.  Oh well, at least the skeleton turned out to be good for something.

With his new position, Dean can see the top of the baby’s head stretching the birth canal again and Sam is pushing to keep it there.  It is pulled back into Sam’s body when his brother stops pushing and starts cursing at him again.

Dean’s immune to those words.  They haven’t been effective since he was eight and Sam cursed at him for the first time.  Instead, he puts both hands on Sam’s belly and looks at his brother.  “Sam, I can see her head.  When you push, I can see it.  So, I need you to push for me.  Push really hard.  Okay?”

Sam answers with a nod and falls into a calm place for a minute.  His fingers twitch over his middle and when his face changes, Dean knows immediately that Sam’s ready to push.  “Dean!”

Dean watches Sam work and it’s insane.  He sees the birth canal widen again, this time more than before, and he involuntarily winces at the way the skin strains.  Sam groans but keeps pushing and the baby’s head is so close.  “She’s right there Sam.”

Sam grits his teeth and pushes through a growl.

It’s a good push.  Dean can tell by the way his child’s head stays put.  He rips his shirt off and uses it to wipe away the blood and fluid between Sam’s legs that are making it difficult to see what is going on clearly. 

“Another!”  Sam pitches forward and pushes.  By the time he is through, he lets out an agonized rasp and falls back onto the tombstone.  “Burns...oh god…Dean!”

“Head’s coming.  It’s right here Sam.  You’re doing good.”  Dean brings his fingers around his daughter’s head and tries to aid the too thinly stretched skin.  It widens more, which Dean thought was almost impossible, when Sam shifts his hips and pushes again.  “Good Sam!  You’ve got this!”

“Is it out yet?”  Sam’s panting again, struggling to stay up against the tombstone as pain seems to be winning out.

“Almost, so close.”  Dean’s hands cup the wet head of hair Sam is working free and it feels like the most important thing he’s ever done.  It’s the weirdest also, but that doesn’t matter so much.

Clenching his jaw, Sam yells louder than before and pushes.  His whole body is shaking from the effort and he closes his eyes tightly as everything hurts so much more.  “Arggh!”

“It’s out, Sam!”  Dean’s shocked by the excitement in his own voice when he watches his daughter’s head pop free.  It doesn’t look much like a human baby but when he gets a lot of the gunk cleaned off her he can see her swollen little face and her baby nose and then he hates himself for thinking his daughter looked gross.

“Thank god.”  Falling back against the stone slab, Sam tries to find energy to keep going.  He just wants to get a hold on the part of his baby that he just pushed out but he feels the rest of her inside him, stretching him again, and all he can do is scream.

Sam pushes several more times without any result.  The baby’s shoulders have shifted oddly and his pushes, no matter how good they are, are not having much of an effect.

Dean can tell he is winded, he knows Sam doesn’t have much left in him.  He also knows Sam will not give up on their daughter.  Sam’s in this.

In an effort to give Sam a focal point, an end goal of sorts, Dean grabs Sam’s hand and places it on their daughter’s head.  They both have a connection there, both reaching between his legs and touching this new person waiting to be an _actual_ resident of this world.  It’s enough to get Sam through the pain of getting her shoulders out.

Only, after another push, it isn’t enough.  Sam grabs onto Dean’s hand and doesn’t let go.  He just squeezes and squeezes while pushing and pushing.

There is a lot of yelling and screaming on both men’s parts, but when Sam squeezes hard enough to break Dean’s hand, he also pushes hard enough to force his daughter from his body in a rush of limbs and fluid.

Dean curses loudly when the bones in his hand break and it _hurts_ but some form of euphoria washes over him and drowns out the pain for the time being because their daughter is born into both of their hands.  She screams like she's not happy about it.  Dean can tell from the way Sam’s panting has changed over that his brother is _definitely_ happy their daughter is wholly on the outside of his body.

Dean’s left hand is practically useless, but his right is still good and there is no way he is dropping this baby he just helped deliver.  Sam’s got a hold on her too and they get her onto Sam’s chest so she can wail all the more closer to her father.  Dean makes sure she is okay, that Sam has her held safely against him, before he pulls back enough to do a quick inspection of her.

“She’s definitely a girl.  And she’s got all her fingers and toes and one hell of a set of lungs.”  Dean runs his right hand over her back, which is still shaking from the baby making shuddering cries.  “And she’s definitely human.”

“She is, right?”  Sam looks like he’s about to fall over, he is sweaty and tired but it’s clear that he is also already so in love with his daughter that he doesn’t want to miss a minute with this new person.

“Yeah, she’s fucking beautiful Sam.”  Dean wipes some gunk away from the baby’s eye with the pad of his thumb.  “Shit, Sam, look what _you_ did.  You just had our baby.  Shit.”  Dean’s vision gets blurry as tears set in.  He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.  “Shit.”  The new dad emotions hit him hard, hard enough that his broken hand’s pain hasn’t set in yet.

Sam is riding the same train.  He looks a little loopy but he lets out a smile.  “You delivered her.  Holy shit, Dean, you delivered _our_ daughter.”  Sam pauses to shush the baby, kissing her wet head and letting her permanently hook herself in his heart.  “Dean, you…I…we…”  He lets his own tear fall.  “You delivered her…that’s…”  Sam stops talking then and cries.  The emotions and the mix of the impossible and the _clearly_ _already happened_ are too much for him.

“Hey, Sammy.  It’s okay.  She’s good.  You’re good.  I’m good.  You did all the hard work and you were amazing.  And she’s here….we’re in a cemetery, but she’s here.”  Dean gives a grin and instinctively goes to run a hand through his hair.  Pain in his left hand shocks him into halting his motions.  It hurts enough for Dean to know something is wrong.  Hissing, he keeps his pain to himself as he watches Sam wrap their daughter in Dean’s discarded shirt and fawn over her.

Eventually, Sam and the baby stop crying enough for them to settle on naming her Evelyn and to realize they really needed to get out of the cemetery.  The flames from the grave have gone down and Sam and Dean know well enough that there is more to fear than just catching cold.

With a busted hand, Dean isn’t much help in getting Sam to his feet, which Sam seems confused about.  He cocks his head at Dean and gives him a questioning look.

“You broke my hand, Sam.”

“I, what?”

“You broke my hand.”  Dean holds up his injured hand, now growing swollen as the injury set in.

“I broke your hand?  You delivered our daughter and I broke your hand?”

“Yeah, and it fucking hurts.”

Sam snorts.  He stays silent until they are back in the car, Evelyn snuggled against Sam’s chest and zipped under his sweatshirt for warmth, to give a reply.  “Pushing her out wasn’t exactly a joy ride, you know.”

Dean’s hand is throbbing, but he’s been through worse and he is not letting a snapped bone dampen this moment.  He is happy.  He has a daughter who he never thought he could have and he gets to be a dad.  It is a perfectly normal milestone he was sure his life would speed to fast to stop at.  There is no way he’s going to complain.  So he does what he always does; he pretends it is no big deal, even though it hurts like hell and he wants to punch Sam.  “I know Sam.  It’s okay.  Barely hurts.  I can deal with it.  I’ll take a broken bone over what I watched your body do.  No offence.”

Sam shoves him but there is hardly any force behind it.  Sam’s tired and he looks it.  It makes Dean realize that a broken bone _really_ isn’t a big deal.  He can’t possibly be the first father to have a hand broken during labor.  He’d deal.

Although, he’s never going to see cemeteries the same way again.

And he's not sure how he is going to drive a stick shift with one hand.

  
THE END


End file.
